


Bedroom Hymns

by TheDixcesters



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Humiliation, Implied Sexual Content, Incest, M/M, Pre-Apocalypse, Rick's POV, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDixcesters/pseuds/TheDixcesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick knows Merle from somewhere before the Apocalypse. But from where?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Do I Wanna Know?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cannibalbat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalbat/gifts).



Rick clawed at the bench of the passenger seat of the van as it shot down the empty highway which led out of the city. His body was still high on adrenaline, shaking, blood pumping through his veins from their close escape out of the shopping mall. He stared out of the front shield, squinting his eyes against the blinding sun. Emptiness everywhere he looked. Empty cars, empty streets, empty houses. He closed his eyes. Trying his best to calm his breath and heart rate, he listened to the steady rumbling of the van's motor and the static white noise coming out of the radio. 

Gradually, Rick could feel his heart slow down and the uncontrollable shaking in his limbs had started to become less and less, leaving behind a deep tiredness that sat heavy in his bones.

Just when he was on the edge of dozing off, he heard Dixon cutting through the tense silence of the van, slurring something on how Rick wouldn't get another chance at holding him down once they were back at the camp and that worthless pieces of shit like cops never prevented him from doing what he thought was right in the past and that he sure as hell wouldn't start letting that happen now.

Rick could only roll his eyes at these words, careful not to let the man see his reaction. There was no need in starting a fight right here in the van, with all the others of the group crammed in the back. Dixon was a ticking time bomb, and he just couldn't, wouldn't deal with that right now. Besides, just hearing the man's raspy voice made Rick's skin crawl.

Rick was lucky, Merle apparently took his silence as a sign of fear or respect and found no need in trying to say anything further on the topic. 

But Rick still couldn't shake the weird feeling he got when he thought about Merle. There was something that nuged at his brain when he heard his voice or saw him, something that Rick was sure he had stored in the deep parts of his brain.

Right when he had seen Dixon for the first time, on the roof top of the shopping mall, Rick had gotten the feeling that he somehow knew this man. He just couldn't put his finger on from where or when. He wouldn't put it past Merle to have been arrested several times in his life. Maybe he had seen him in their police station before...

Rick shrugged the though off and decided to let it be. A man like Dixon was not worth being mulled over.

~~~~~*~~~~~

For the first time since had woken up in that hospital bed and had been thrown into a goddamn apocalypse, Rick didn't feel like he might collapse at any second. His wife and son had given him back some kind of stability and he was no longer paralysed by the fear of imminent death, but instead driven by the sheer will to ensure his and his family's survival.

Rick stepped outside of the tent he shared with Lori and Carl, letting the last warm sunrays of the day prickle his skin. He still couldn't really acclimate to the smell of death that was always prominent everywhere he went, and Rick longed for a deep, fresh breath of air filling his lungs.

He went over to Shane who was busy sharpening the ends of some branches. “What are you trying to do with them?”, Rick asked, reaching for an already sharpened branch lying on the ground.

“The group wants a fence around the camp. I'm making the posts.”, Shane muttered without looking up from his work. Rick furrowed his brow. “A fence? Would a fence keep the... these things out?”.

His friend only chuckled and let the next finished post fall on top of a pile. “Do _you_ think that?”. Rick twisted his mouth and Shane sighed.

“Yeah, neither do I, but it sure as hell at least _looks_ like something that would keep them out. Like I said, they want a fence, not that they need one.”, Shane stated and picked up the next branch. 

Rick hummed in understanding, letting his eyes wander over the edge of the woods. How many of them were wandering around there, staggering aimlessly through the dense bushes and trees?

Suddenly, Rick caught a suspicious movement coming from between a group trees. He heard the sound of dried branches snapping and leaves rustling, as if someone was walking towards their camp. In mere seconds, his body and brain kicked into survival modus: his hand was hovering over his gun, every muscle in his body tensed, ready to pounce on the approaching threat. He saw a man coming from out of the woods. Relatively clean clothes, no missing limbs, no visible open flesh wounds, a normal walk and

“Oh, you're back! Are those squirrels?” - “Yeah, 've tracked down a deer for dinner, but sum f'ckin walkers ate half of it.” - obviously not a Zombie.

“Rick”, Shane laughed behind him. “Easy, man. That's just Daryl. He's part of our group. Unfortunately that is.”

Rick nodded absently, letting his muscles go lax and kept watching Daryl, as he strode towards the camp, undoing his belt to wich about half a dozen squirrels and two rabbits were tied. Rick mustered the crossbow on the man's back. “He a hunter?”.

Shane huffed. “Yeah, and a good one, too. Too bad he's also a fucking hillbilly. Had nothing but trouble with him and his piece of shit brother. But I bet you already figuered that.”

Rick turned to his friend with a questioning look. Shane lifted his eyebrow.

“Well, since you had the pleasure to meet him in Atlanta. Heard you cuffed the fucker to a roof? I'd freaking pay to see that man. Shoul've left him there though.”

“Merle Dixon is his brother?”, Rick muttured to himself. The feeling from before was back again, tugging at the back of his mind. What was it with Merle that just unsettled him so deeply?

“Yeah, I know. Couldn't believe it either when I found out. I mean, how fucked up can someone be, am I right?!”, Shane exclaimed, but Rick was barely listening to him. 

In the corner of his eye, the ex-cop could see a man walking over to Daryl. Rick turned his head again and saw that is was indeed Merle Dixon striding over to his brother, baring his teeth in a wide grin. “Baby brother!”, he drawled loudly and spread his arms in greeting. Daryl, who still had been busy with untying the slain animals from his belt, immediately dropped everything to the ground. After clumsily wiping his hands on his pants, the younger man straightened his back and went to meet his brother, a soft smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Rick watched as the two brother hugged, Merle wrapping his arms around Daryl, firmly patting his little brother on the back. “You miss' me?”, the older Dixon snorted in amusement as he felt his brother pressing his cheek to his chest. Grimes squinted his eyes as he saw Daryl nodding into the fabric of Merle's leather vest before detatching himself from his older brother's embrace. 

The weird feeling was there again, and it really started to annoy the heck out of Rick. He didn't want to waste all his time pondering over this douchebag, but his subconcious told him that he was missing something very important.

Something about the look Merle was giving his little brother as he lifted one of his hands and almost tenderly brushed a strand of hair out of Daryl's face, letting his thumb linger a second too long on the younger man's forehead. Something about the way Daryl ducked away at the contact, hiding his face in clear embarrsement. Something about the dirty laugh that Merle gave at this reaction.

Behind him, he heard Shane supressing a choke. 

“Disgusting.” 

And then it hit him.


	2. Well know they know! (again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick's flash back.
> 
> [I have no idea about police procedure in the US. I'm sorry.]

“I'm tired as fuck, Shane”, Rick groaned, barely holding back a yawn. Shane just chuckled, hands in his pockets, and kept on walking beside his friend. “I know, I know. Ain't much longer, pal.”. Shane lifted his arm to read the watch on his wrist. Almost 2.30 am. Ah, how wonderful. “A little more than an hour and we're off.”, he said.

God, how Rick hated patrol. Especially on foot. Especially at half past motherfucking 2 in the morning on a fucking saturday night. Breaking up random bar fights, driving drunk teenagers home to their worried parents (or the station right away) and watching them cry like a newborn baby wasn't his particular idea of a fun night. 

He'd rather spend the time at home, cooking a nice dinner together with Lori (and not yet again end up stuffing his mouth full of greasy fast food), cuddling on the couch and watching a movie or two with Carl until it was way past his bedtime, and when their son was finally asleep in his room, letting the night end by making love to his beautiful wife.

But no, he had to be walking around town, up and down the so-called boulevard, keeping an eye on the people that were enjoying the night a little too hard and overall showing off the presence of the citiy's police.

At least he had Shane. His friend and partner somehow always found a way to make even the most annoying and mundane tasks endurable, even if it was by simply being someone to listen to Rick's bitching about said tasks (which he didn't do that often okay? He was a good officer!).

But tonight had been a really long night and both officers were way too tired to be bothered with much conversation. They walked in comfortable silence, sometimes stopping on the side walk and listening for eventual trouble inside the bars or shining their flashlights into dark alleys. 

Rick let his eyes wander over the facades on their side of the street. Not many establishments were left to check and the street would soon come to an end. He and Shane were supposed to watch over the entertainment district of their town, which really limited itself to one long street.

One of the last bars they passed was particularly loud. Seemingly almost completely built out of wood and dirt, it was also by far the seediest looking place. Loud rock music droned out from behind closed doors and dim light spilled onto the side walk scattered with beer cans, cigarette stubs and very drunk bikers. Their rides were parked in front of the bar and in the parking lot behind it and Rick really hoped that not too many of them would decide that they were still in the right mind and condition to drive themselves home. 

He exchanged a fleeting look with his partner Shane and nodded in the direction of the drunken bodies. Shane nodded back and they both went over to check on them. After a quick examination of the drunks and questioning of the less inebriated people around them, Shane and Rick decided to let them be for now. There was no immediate need for their assistance and they had both been told that the men were being cared for.

Just as the two cops were about to continue their nightly stroll down the main street, Shane held Rick back, palm pressed on his shoulder, and pointed to the parking lot half hidden behind the bar, accessible through a short alleyway. “Think we should take a look around there too?”, he asked Rick. “Hm. Yeah, might be not such a bad idea.”, Rick agreed after a short moment. 

The bar was notorious for its violent fights between drunken bikers, which, more often than not, were moved to outside. During their time as officers, Rick and Shane had also witnessed the one or other small drug deal taking place in the dark, secluded lot.

“Won't hurt to make sure there's nothing special going on.”, he added, already moving towards the alley. Shane followed him suit, flashlight pointing forwards, shining it over the sprayed brick walls and full dumpsters. 

The parking lot wasn't particular large, but big enough for the numerous cars, trucks and biked parked there. Only two dim street lights illuminated the area, and the music coming out of the bar sounded more muffled there than on the street side. When the two cops got there, not a single person could be seen hanging around the lot. No one fighting, no one dealing, hell, surprisingly not even anyone smoking a cigarette.

Rick heard Shane beside him sigh in relief at the sight of the empty parking lot. Rick himself had not been looking forward to a fight and he was glad to be spared the pleasure of a conflict with drunks or criminals. He was so fucking tired.

His friend was just about to leave again when Rick heard something over the steady pounding of drums. He turned his head to the side, pricking up his ears and squinting his eyes to where he thought the noise came from. Though it was barely audible over the background sounds of the bar, music seemed to drone out from one of the cars parked in the back of the lot.

Shane, who had by this time turned around again to see why his partner wasn't moving, followed Rick's look and twisted his face at Rick's discovery. “Fuck. And here I thought we'd be done for the night.”, he groaned in annoyance. “Let's just take a quick look on what's going on in there and then we'll leave. It's probably nothing, but I don't want to be the cop that lets dealers pass their stuff directly under his nose.”, Rick sighed, not much less annoyed than his friend.

As they made their way across the dirty parking lot, the music got louder and louder, until Rick and Shane were able to tell that it was coming from an old Pick Up Truck standing in the last row of parking spaces. It seemed to be light blue in colour, but rust and mud covered most of the truck's varnish. Shane focused the beam of his flashlight on the trunk, careful not to shine it thorugh the rear window just yet, and noted the latters and numbers on the license plate.

He heard Rick make a noise of confusion beside him and he looked over to his partner, an eyebrow raised in question. Rick had his arms crossed over his chest and was frowning at the vehicle in front of them. “Shane, do you... like, see how it's moving?”. At first, Shane looked at Rick like had lost his mind, but out of the corner of his eye he really could see the car body ever so slightly rocking from one side to the other. 

Shane rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, if that's what I think it is I'm gonna shoot myself in the fucking face.”, he stated dryly. Rick winced at the idea of finding some sleazy redneck fucking his bar hookup on the backseat of his truck and having to split them up. “Why?”, Rick mouthed skywards, head thrown back, eyes closed. 

Nevertheless, Rick and Shane split up, coordinating their next steps without words, and quietly made their way around the truck. Rick on the driver's side, Shane on the passenger side, just in case someone felt the need to go on a little run after he and Shaned would have barged in on them.

The truck's windows were unbelievably dirty, the dust and dirt making it downright impossible to even sneak a peek inside at what was happening. But the music blaring out of the car's radio wasn't loud enough to drown out the noises coming from the back of the truck. 

Clear sounds of sex reached Rick's ears, deep, throaty groans mingling with desperate sounding whimpers, all underlined by the steady squeaking of rusty springs and The Best of Motörhead. Classy. 

Rick lifted his right arm, flashlight in hand, and just as he was able to make out a muffled “Oh fuck, yes, harder!” coming from the inside (followed by a particularly loud growl), shone it through the side windows into the Pick Up.

The light didn't help him much, the windows were still way too smuged to look inside, but that wasn't necessary at all. He heard, practically felt the moment the two lovebirds getting busy in there knew they were fucked. This time, in the metaphorical sense of the word.

Surprised and confused yells, immedietly followed by loud, angry curses that would have made a sailor blush and apologize. Rick couldn't help but grin at that, and somehow he knew without a doubt that Shane, on the other side of the now violently swaying truck, felt the same smile tugging at his lips.

Abruptly, the music inside the Pick Up stopped. And yes, Rick's grin broadened, over the sudden silence he could hear Shane's quiet snickering. Rick didn't feel sorry anymore for the horny bastards that couldn't wait til they got home , especially not when the horny bastards in question were grown ass adults that should know better than to fuck in a public parking lot.

He cleared his throat, and knocked on the truck's window. “King County Police Department, please leave your vehicle right now”, Rick ordered and tried to sound professional, barely able to keep the amusement out of his voice.

More swears ensued, but were soon followed by the ruffling of clothes hastily being put on and the rattling noises of closing belt buckles.

Finally, the door on Rick's side opened. The cop was greeted by the prominent smell of sex, sweat and beer and he scrunched up his face in disgust, taking a few steps back.

The first person to come out of the truck was an elder but muscled man, short grey hair dark from sweat. The muderous face he made had Rick's good spirit going up in smoke immediately. Rick had had plently experience with this kind of people and he knew when to be careful and around whom. He was glad that Shane was with him on this one.

The man wore a white wifebeater and green cargo pants, both wrinkled and carelessly put on, and dark brown combat boots with the laces still open.

While Rick tried his best to hold the furious man's gaze without flinching, the second person jumped out of the Pick Up. Rick couldn't help it, knew it was highly unprofessional and he wasn't that kind of cop to make a snide comment, but his eyes widened as he realized that it was another man exiting the truck.

When he Shane came around the corner to back him up, knowing now that nobody would leave out of the passenger side, Rick saw the same surprise flicker over his friend'd face too as they exchanged looks. 

The second man was a little less bulky and way younger, around 35 years, 40 maybe. The greasy strands of his dark brown hair hang into his narrow face as he bowed his head in shame, not meeting the eyes of anyone around him and shuffling his feet.

Rick didn't feel fucking sorry. No, he fucking didn't.

Shane took a few steps forth until he was standing besides his partner, arms crossed, examining the two men in front of them.

The older guy was obviously having trouble controling his rage at the cops that ruined his little hook up, if his red face and clenched fists were any indication. Coitus inter-cop-tus, Rick thought and winced at the horrible pun his brain came up with. He heard the man breath heavily trough his nose, could see how hard his teeth were clenched. Intoxication, aggression and sexual frustration never made a good mixture.

“Good night, there”, Shane's firm voice finally broke the tense silence. “Officer Rick Grimes,”, he nodded to his friend, “and Officer Shane Walsh, King County Police Department.” They both simultaneously showed the golden badges hanging on their belts. The muscles under the older man's eyes twitched, the other man bit his lip.

“While we were taking a look around the parking lot, me and my partner here heard a few noises coming from the inside of your vehicle. We just came over to check if there was anything weird going on here.”, Shane continued, turning his scrutinizing gaze from one to the other, a man this far away from trying to rip Shane's throat out, and a man who was by far the most guilty looking person Shane had ever seen in his entire life. 

For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed Shane's mind that maybe he and Rick had interrupted something not entirely consensual, but then the younger man carefully shuffled closer to his “partner” and hooked one of his long fingers into a belt loop on the older man's jeans, lightly tugging on it. Immediately, altough very little, the tense posture of the aggressive guy relaxed.

Maybe more than a one night bar hookup, and definitely no cause of rape, Shane noted internally. He decided to get this whole procedure over with as quickly as possible. Just a few formalities and he and Rick could finally leave and go home, public indecency be damned.

He spoke up again, hoping that the presence of the silent guy was enough to keep the other one from doing something stupid for now. “Could you two gentlemen please tell me your names and show me your IDs?”, Shane asked.

“I ain't tellin' ya shit!”, the older man spat, anger and disgust curling his lips. Shane pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply.

Just as Rick opened his mouth to help his friend out, the brown-haired guy tugged at the other man's jeans again, this time much harder, and a high noise of distress came out of the back of his throat. After glaring at him, the older guy turned back to Rick and Shane, squinting his eyes and grinding his teeth before growling: “I'm gonna get it real quick, officers.” And though this words were still laced with venom, Rick and Shane both raised their eyebrows, pleasantly surprised at the man's sudden change of mind.

Nonetheless, Rick followed him the few steps over to the passenger door, not wanting to risk the man escaping or worse, whipping a gun out at them. Something about the whole situation seemed off and all his cop instincts were tingling.

When the older guy jumped out of the pick up again a moment later and handed him his ID, no gun in hand, Rick felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Merle Dixon, 53 years old”, he read out loud. The man in question snorted. 

“What about mister you-have-the-right-to-remain-silent over here? He got a name?”, Rick heard his partner call out to him. He let his hand with Merle's ID sink and looked up at Dixon, about to repeat the question for him, when he noticed something about the man. His eyes, though being narrowed to angry slits, were noticably glazed over, much too bright, and slightly out of focus. The blue of Merle's iris was almost completely replaced by his abnormally widened pupils.

Dixon had probably seen something in Rick's expression change, because he instinctively took a step back, faced away and blinked with his eyes. “What the hell you starin' at?!”, he yelled, trying to sound threatening, but coming off as undenieably defensive.

High as a kite, obviously. Now Shane and him had a spontaneous drug raid around their necks. Freaking GREAT. Quitting time receded into the distance.

Rick righted himself and cleared his throat. “Mr. Dixon, are you under the influence of any illegal substances at this moment?”, he asked warily, tilting his head to one side. 

He saw Dixon's hazy eyes widen, and Rick didn't even wait for an answer before he half turned around to his partner, keeping Merle in the corner of his eye.“Shane?”, he called. “Yeah?”, Shane answered, still watching over Daryl. “I think we should take a look inisde the truck. The guy I have here is obviously on drugs.”

And he should have seen it coming. He sould have seen it coming from a mile away.

Shane faced the man still quietly standing in front of him, searched his face for any signs of recent drug use, found the same that Rick had noticed on Merle, lifted his head, nodded to Rick with a grim expression, turned his head for a fracture of a second to the still open pick up door and...

the fucker ran. The motherfucking, miserable looking fucktard that had never even once spoken a single word this whole damn time, hadn't even told them his fucking name, had not done anything but stand on the freaking same spot and look guilty while it all went down, ran off. 

Rick and Shane were so completely and utterly startled, that in the time it took for them to comprehend and react, the man had already gained a critical headstart. 

Two seconds were all it took for Rick to reach for the cuffs in the back of his pants and secure Merle, two seconds were all it took for Shane to start chasing after the younger man, not even fiveteen seconds were all it took for the guy to completely hopelessly vanish from Shane's view, but it took days for Rick to get Merle's hysterical bawling at the sight of his lover disappearing out of his head.

“YES BABY, FUCKING RUN!”


End file.
